


Ode to the East Wind

by Jazzy_Kandra



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Gen, Pre-Wind Waker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 19:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazzy_Kandra/pseuds/Jazzy_Kandra
Summary: In a time when the hero is nowhere to be found, a shy and anxious Zelda must find a way to confront the darkness or lose everything that she loves to the King of Evil, returned.A story set in the pre-flood Hyrule of Wind Waker.





	Ode to the East Wind

Through shadow, Zelda ran. Feet thudding against the earth, heart thumping in her chest, breathe coming in uneven gasps. In this place, she could see nothing more than a dark fog with little form. The darkness enclosed around her, seeming to twist and swirl like a ghastly mist.  Somewhere from within the void a voice resounded: deep as night, cold as winter, hard as steel.

“Where is the hero?”

Zelda staggered to a halt, looking back and forth but seeing nothing. Her chest tightened, her breath caught. It was hard breath, hard to think.

“Where is the One, chosen of the gods?”

 _I know that voice, don’t I? It’s Ganondorf, the King of Evil,_ she thought. Though she had no memories of facing him in this life time, she knew his voice all the same. It had been a thousand years since his reign, many saw him as nothing more than a mere legend these days. Nothing more than a tale to frighten children to bed. _He’s returned...hasn’t he?_

No one answered her silent questions.

“Where have they hidden him?” She felt a chill spring up her spine at these words.

A warm breeze blew back her hair and dispersed the shadow, revealing that she stood upon the top of a nameless peak overlooking the land of Hyrule. From the precipice, all of the land spread out before her, from Hebra in the north, to the Great Sea in the East. An impossibility, but such was the way of dreams.

Without warning, a great conflagration consumed Kokiri Forest, leaving nothing but the burnt corpses of trees in its wake. Then Death Mountain, tall and mighty, fell under a deadly chill, forever lost to winter’s frost. Lake Hylia's pleasant waters ran red with blood. The people of the Desert became frozen in time like statues of stone. Other images came too: five lights of different colors consumed by shadow; a phoenix with broken wings bathed in blood; a glowing hand shrouded behind a curtain; a figure in violet donned the royal garb.

Zelda’s knees grew weak beneath her, but she did not fall. She _would_ not…even though words failed her often and her legs shook unsteadily.

"Speak princess," commanded the voice, the very stones trembled beneath her feet. Even the mountains feared him. “Or are your gods powerless to stop me?”

Zelda tongue grew heavy as lead. Could a princess such as her do anything to confront him? She wasn’t like her ancestor, filled with courage, wisdom, and confidence. She’d rather read books than practice archery, let alone fight. She was just a simple girl…not some ancient Princess of Destiny who could withstand the powers of darkness.

“So what my servant had told me is true,” the King of Evil said, a dark figure of shadows with golden eyes coalesced before her. He gave her a sharp grin, displaying a mouthful of broad white teeth. “You, girl, _are_ worthless.”

She rolled her hands into fists, tears, as usual, falling down her cheeks.

“I…I won’t let you,” she said, voice small and weak. “I won’t.”

Ganondorf chuckled, clearly amused.

"You?" he asked, once his laughter died down. "Do not be a fool, child. You can do nothing without Courage…you can barely do anything even with the power you do possess.”

“But…that means I can…I can do _something_ ,” she argued, smearing at her tears on her flowing sleeves. More, however, sprung forth. “I _will_. I…I promise.”

_I have to try._

That, of course, only made him chuckle once more.

Softly, rain fell from the heavens, washing away the apparition of the shadowy man. Its remnants were blown away by a dry wind, but in its wake, more visions came.

The vast green plains of Hyrule were dyed crimson. An army of monsters faced a small force composed of the people of the gods, Zora, Goron, and human raised arms against the forces of darkness. Most had no armor, however. They were a simple militia of common-folk whom wielded only pitchforks, spades, axes and spears. These fought creatures of legend, giant spiders, lizardfos, the undead, beaked wizrobes dressed in ornate robes. Even from the mountaintop, she heard the sounds of war: metal clung, cannons thundered, the cries of beasts and men arose, both alive and dying.

Yet, in the midst of that bloodstained land, a lone light ascended and approached a tower made of dark stone. On top stood the shadowy man with his eyes of gold and hair aflame, his terrible smile wiped from his face. Behind him, his cape bellowed, before him, he rested a hand on the hilt of one of his golden scimitars. Stoic, he leaped off the tower, taking on the form of a dragon, and wrestled with a phoenix of light.

 _The hero,_ she thought, _I will find him after all._

But the light dispersed. The shadows consumed all once more, and Zelda, weeping, stood alone on a mountaintop beneath the light of a fading sun.

Was she really so worthless that she could save only herself?

"I will stop him," she swore even as the night enshrouded her once again. "I swear."

Though she did not know how.

The dream faded.

With a start, Zelda woke. Darkness smothered her, her breaths came in shallow gasps, a few tears came to her eyes.

 _No gods…not again. Please—I'm in bed. How melodramatic can you get, Zel?_ That last part sounded distinctly like her brother. A thick quilt covered her head, not shadows, smoke, or black mists. Another blanket was wrapped tightly around her chest and stomach. The latter was covered in sweat, the other dampened by tears. She tossed her covers on the floor, and then looked around her dimly lit room, noting familiar objects to ground herself in the here and now just as her tutor had taught her.

Stone walls covered in tapestries and art; check. Nightstand by her bed; check. Wardrobe, standing mirror, and her large wooden chest…check, check, check. Each of the doors were in their places. The candles, unlit, rested on the dresser. The white brick fireplace and large, glass windows were all there as well hidden behind thick curtains. Everything was where it should be.

Even the cat. The old, orange tabby was laying on the rug in front of the dim fire, his eyes closed, his fluffy tail curled up around his thick body. Letting out a sleepy chirp, Thomas didn’t otherwise acknowledge her panic. Typical.

Zelda laid down once more, falling back against the feather mattress. She hadn't woken up into another dream, thank the gods. Outside, rain splattered against the stone walls of Hyrule Castle, rhythmic and soothing, playing a familiar melody. On any other night, she would have let its song lure her back to sleep, but the horrible visions kept rest at bay. Had she really spoken with the King of Evil, or was he just a fragment of her imagination and childhood trauma? Had she really promised to protect Hyrule when she would much rather sneak a snack from the kitchen than learn to fight?

Could she take that chance?

With that thought in mind, Zelda sat back up, pulling on socks then slippers. Thomas yawned, stretching his legs. He glanced up at her, stood, and scratched at the large, decorate rug.

"Stop it," the princess whispered, but the cat did not heed her command. Instead, he clawed the rug again. _I can't even make a cat listen to me. How can I get anyone else to?_

Though, admittedly, Thomas didn't listen to anyone.

The best thing to do, Zelda decided, was to ignore him. He was only a cat after all.

Turning her head, she decided she needed to summon her nursemaid, but before she could, the double doors that led out to the hall slammed against the side of the wardrobe. In one hand, Dena carried a lantern, the other rested carefully on a slightly curved blade. With the elegance of a panther, Dena crossed the room, red eyes searching for anything that could have unsettled her charge.

"Princess," the woman said, a frown deepening the lines on either side of her mouth. She glared at the cat. Thomas bolted under the bed, huddling in the corner. Of course, he'd listen to Dena at least. Everyone feared the aging Sheikah, daughter of their current chieftain, embassy to the Kingdom of Hyrule, and, as was custom, the nursemaid and protector of the Princess. Once, her mother, Impa, had served the Royal Family in the same place, but that was a long time ago. Zelda had never meant the woman.

“Why were you screaming, princess?"

Zelda swallowed. She didn’t recall any screams…that didn’t mean she had not done so, however. _This is going spectacularly. How lucky I am tonight!_

“Did one of the Prince’s assassins jump out of the walls and come for you as well?" she asked. Zelda felt her stomach twist. Adrien wasn’t insane, just a little paranoid.

"It...it was a dream...," she admitted, turning aside. That made her sound paranoid, too. Paranoid and silly, this reaction would not win her Dena’s favor. Zelda gripped the skirt of her nightgown anxiously. “I’m sorry.”

"Nightmares are no reason to wake up half the castle staff." Dena placed the lantern on the night stand, but did not sit on the stool beside it. "Zelda. Child. You know what gossips the maids are."

Zelda blushed, recalling what she had done as a child. Shouting, screaming, calling for a mother who could not come. On nights like that, only her father's presence had brought her comfort, but she had not had such terrible dreams in years. Dena knew that, but Dena often ignored her words, treating her ever like the frightened child who had lost her mother at a young age.

Beneath Dena’s scrutiny, she definitely still felt like one.

"No, no, not like those," she said, still unable to meet the older woman’s keen gaze. "It was terrible. A prophecy, I…I think.”

Dena shook her head. "It was just a bad dream, girl, even I—"

"I'm seventeen, Dena," she said, then blinked, startled that she had interrupted her. “I…I’m not a child.”

The older woman smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. "When was the last time those powers needed to be awoken again?" From the nightstand, Dena picked up the silver goblet. It was plain and unadorned, only the crest of the royal family embroidered on its broad cup. Dena took out a small package of sleeping powder from her satchel at her waist and poured it into the goblet of clear water, stirring it with a spoon. "Take a drink."

With that, Dena handed Zelda the goblet. In reply, Zelda stared at the mixture instead.

"Princess."

"I know what you're thinking." Zelda's grip on the goblet’s stim tightened, knuckles turning white, shaking. "But just this once, please, believe me."

"You mustn't let yourself become like your elder brother," Dena said, weariness creeping into her voice. The whole castle thought the prince was paranoid, a lazy lout, or both. He wasn’t the crown prince, of course, Hyrule was always matriarchal unless there was no princess born to the current queen. Unlike their father, Adrien had Zelda, a sister who would inherit the throne. A fact, she was certain, he was most grateful for. "You have to keep your head, girl, we can't have the heir losing her wits, too."

"He's just afraid, not crazy." The princess placed the goblet back on her nightstand with a gentle thump. “A…a thousand years is a very long time, but even now, no one speaks the King of Evil’s true name. No one dares. Do you really think the gods mistakenly gave me the mark?"

Zelda lifted her hand, the mark of the Triforce glowed dimly in the dark room. At this action, Dena’s frown deepened.

"Many princesses have had it,” Dena said. “Inheritance does not equate to destiny."

Zelda nodded, chewing her bottom cheek nervously. She still shook slightly, confronting Dena was never an easy task…not that she found confronting anyone easy.

"Then…then perhaps the increase in monster attacks on our borders are just rumors, and our Knights and Royal Guard aren't spread too thin to keep them at bay. And the crops haven't failed due to drought, nor has there been an increase in cases of illness among the populace. We're certainly not suffering from the very problems which the Princess of Destiny foresaw in the Golden Age, Dena. The very ones she said would come on the eve of Ganon’s return." She said this all in rush, breathing hard once she finished. Finally, she meant Dena’s eyes. "Don't tell me you haven’t seen the reports."

"When did you get your hands on those?" Dena asked, stiff and cold as ever despite her long tirade. Zelda swallowed, in truth, she probably shouldn’t have peeked. “Princess.”

"I…I read everything I can get my hands on," she replied, then looked down at her lap again as a sudden blush warmed her cheeks. “Lord Nicholas left them on his desk.”

“I see.”

"It's my duty as the princess to stay informed. Please, Dena, could you, perhaps, come to my study?" she begged, nervously smoothing out wrinkles in her skirt. “At least try. Please?”

At last, Dena sighed, but nodded.

Zelda walked past her nursemaid and into her study on yet shaky feet, praying that Dena would actually follow. Stone bookshelves lined one wall, an unlit fireplace nestled between them. In the dark of night, the shelves appeared as looming shadows, her desk, however, was lit by the light of a diming lantern. The desk was covered with books, stacks of paper, and a small collection of odds and ends. Even a plate sat on it with a few select pastries she had stolen from the kitchen earlier that day. Or rather, Adrien had stolen them, he was a lot sneakier than she could ever hope to be.

Dena picked up a half-eaten honey roll. "Again?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Zelda closed her eyes, fear stirring in her belly.  _Does…does she always have to do this?_

"If you keep stealing from the kitchen," Dena said, glaring at the sweets like her gaze alone could burn them to a crisp. It probably could, considering the Sheikah’s severe temperament. "You will be more than a little plump."

The woman poked Zelda’s stomach, causing the princess flinch in discomfort. She took a step back, wishing she could huddle in a corner just like her cat had. She hated being touched by people who weren’t family. The princess hid a hand behind her back, concealing a rude gesture her elder brother had taught her. She might be brave enough to sass her nursemaid a once or twice, but she wasn't so brave that she could confront her like that directly.

"Dena, could you…do you think…ummm…can you take a message to my father?"

"If that is what you wish," she said.

Zelda exhaled in relief then raised an eyebrow at the old woman. Dena rarely was so easily swayed… Zelda deliberately made herself meet the Sheikah's bright red eyes. There was something there, but Zelda couldn't discern it. She had never been the best at reading subtle facial expressions. Dena gave her a slight shrug.

"I will not stand in your way, princess, but, I do think it is unwise to bother the king with such trivalities. Your father has enough on his plate, if you would do more than read books on—“ she picked up one of the open books on the desk, skimming it quickly—“panthers and the wildlife in Cabiria, perhaps you would have some _idea_ what your father actually has to deal with it."

Zelda’s jaw nearly dropped open at this accusation. _I know plenty well what he’s dealing with, she thought. I just told you!_

Zelda kept these words to herself, instead, taking a seat in the plush chair behind her desk. Saying was too direct, too forward, and she was already feeling worn out from this whole conversation. Still, there were other ways to fight. She could simply ignore what Dena was trying to imply, she decided. It was far easier than trying to defend herself. Instead, Zelda dipped her quill in the inkwell, quickly penned a note to her father, and stamped it shut with her seal.

"Please, Dena," she said, giving the Sheikah a pleading look. "Make sure you ask him to meet with me. It's…it's important."

"I will,” the older woman said with flattened lips, but placed the letter in her satchel. She then took Zelda’s plate of pastries, much to the princess’s displeasure. "In the morning. I will not wake your father so late at night, princess."

Zelda sighed, but did not argue. She was, in truth, too exhausted to speak.

"Good night, Princess, and please, get some rest."

The woman left, but Zelda barely noticed. Instead, she picked up a large, leather-bound book from her desk and slumped into her chair. She knew she would not sleep again tonight, but at the very least, she could read. Books were far more pleasant company than people anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually a major overhaul of an older work, which, I hope, will have better results than last time. xD


End file.
